THERESE. Please, godmamma, don't be hard upon me. I feel you think I'm ungrateful, though you don't say so. I know that often and often I shall long for your kindness and for the home where you've given me a place. I've shocked you. Do please forgive me. I'm made like that, and made differently from you. I don't say you're not right; I only say I'm different. Certain ideas have come to me from being educated at the Lycee and from all these books I've read. I think I'm able to earn my own living, and so I look upon it as my bounden duty not to trespass upon your charity. It's a question of personal dignity. Don't you think that I'm right, godfather? [_With a change of tone_] Besides, if I did go to Evreux with you, what should I do there? GUERET. It's pretty easy to guess. MADAME GUERET. Yes, indeed. GUERET. You would live with us. MADAME GUERET [_not very kindly_] You would have a home. THERESE. Yes, yes, I know all that; and it would be a great happiness. But what should I _do_? GUERET. You would do what all well brought up young girls in your position do. THERESE. You mean I should do nothing. GUERET. Nothing! No, not nothing. THERESE. Pay visits, practise a bit; some crochet and a little photography? That's to say, nothing. GUERET. You were brought up to that. THERESE. I should never have dared to put it into words. But afterwards? GUERET. Afterwards? THERESE. How long would that last? GUERET. Until you marry. THERESE. I shall never marry. GUERET. Why not? THERESE [_very gently_] Oh, godfather, you know why not. I have no money. [_A silence_] So I'm going to try and get work. FELIAT. Work! Now, Therese, you know what women are like who try to earn their own living. You think you can support yourself. How? THERESE. Perhaps I'm mistaken, but I think I can support myself by my pen. FELIAT. Be a bluestocking? THERESE. Yes. MADAME GUERET. That means a Bohemian life, with everything upside down, and a cigarette always between your lips. THERESE [_laughing_] Neither Bohemia, nor the upside down, nor the cigarette are indispensable, godmother. Your information is neither firsthand nor up-to-date. FELIAT. In a month's time you'll want to give it up. THERESE. Under those circumstances there's no harm in letting me make the experiment. GUERET. Now, my dear child, don't you know that even with your cleverness you may have to wait years before you make a penny. I've been an editor. I know what I'm talking about. MADAME GUERET. She's made up her mind, there's no use saying any more. FELIAT. But _I_ want to talk to her now. Will you be so good as to listen to me, Mademoiselle Therese? [_To Madame Gueret_] I wonder if I might be allowed to have a few minutes with her alone. MADAME GUERET. Most willingly. GUERET [_to his wife_] Come, Marguerite. MADAME GUERET. It's no use making up your mind to the worst in these days; life always keeps a surprise for you. Let's go. [_She goes out with her husband_]